Broken Biro on the street
(That’s an English ball point pen.)
Crushed by cars’ uncaring wheels
It’s ink a useless smear.

What words could that ink
Have produced on sheets
Of clean white paper
Guided by a poet’s hand.

Visions of fantastic lands
That beckon with their beauty.
Invitations to explore
Another way of thinking.

Broken Biro on the street
Was it thrown out on purpose-
Obsoleted by a phone
That puts its words into the clouds.
             ljm